


in the family of things

by engmaresh



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Reconciliation, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: Family can be a messy, complicated thing.Kuvira and the Beifongs. Three reunions.
Relationships: Baatar Jr. & Kuvira (Avatar), Huan & Kuvira (Avatar), Kuvira & Opal (Avatar), Suyin Beifong & Kuvira
Kudos: 53





	in the family of things

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Lunar New Year! Prosperity, good health and good fortune to you! Have some angsty family feels!

A bush rustled behind Kuvira, and she spun around, brandishing the rocks hovering around her fists. Nothing had tried to attack her yet, but she knew there were wildcats and bearwolves in these mountains. Perhaps she’d already run far enough from Zaofu to encounter one.

The bush rustled again and she punched out first with one rock, then another.

“Ow!” cried the bush. “Stop, Kuvira, stop!”

She still had enough control over one rock to deflect its path to one side where it bounced harmlessly off a tree, but was too late for the other. It had already sailed into the bush and struck its intended target, who cursed loudly.

“Ow, I think I’m bleeding.” An arm emerged, gesturing angrily in her direction. “A little help maybe?”

“Go away, Baatar,” she snapped, crossing her arms and staying here she was. If he wanted so badly to come after her, he could crawl out himself.

“I hate you,” muttered the bush, then something cracked, and third of it fell forward, revealing Baatar, bare arms scratched from thorns, glasses and hair askew. The hem of his new robe was torn and muddy. A thin trickle of blood was slowly curving down his cheek.

“You’re such a bitch,” he grumbled, then almost fell on his face with a cry when she raised the ground beneath him.

“I’m going to tell your mom you called me that.”

“You’re not going to tell on me,” he said, but she detected a hint of false bravado in his voice. Then his eyes widened. “Ha! Does that mean you’re coming back?”

Kuvira scowled. “No! I told you I’m leaving.”

His expression mirrored hers, as did his posture as he drew himself up, though it only served to emphasise how much she'd outgrown him over the year. “You can’t go until you apologise to Huan!”

And whatever small elation Kuvira had felt, no matter how viciously she’d squashed it down, dispersed instantly at his words. Of course he wasn’t here for her. He’d come because she’d hurt his younger brother, and that demanded retribution.

“I just hit him a little! It wasn’t even hard! He’s such a baby!”

“He just wanted you to look at his drawing!”

“I don’t care about his stupid drawing!”

“Fine!” he roared, and to her horror, turned around and started back the way he’d come. “Leave! Since you don’t care!”

Part of her wanted to scream for him to stay, to come with her, to not leave her the way _they_ had, but instead the words fell out of her mouth, a landslide with nothing to hold it back. “Fine!” she yelled. “I’ll go! I never liked you anyway, or Huan, or Opal, or Zaofu! Zaofu’s stupid, and your mom’s stupid. I’ll go to Ba Sing Se and find my parents, and you–and you’ll—” and words finally stopped, dammed up in her throat by great heaving sobs. Tears rolled from her eyes, blurring her vision and she scrubbed at them viciously with her sleeves.

Baatar watched. He didn’t leave, but he didn’t come any closer either, just squatted down next to the stupid bush and watched as she screamed and yelled, tearing up rocks, pebbles and dirt with her bending, throwing it around her in her rage. Sometimes he had to duck or shift a little to avoid a clod of dirt, but he didn’t stand and he didn't leave, and she remained aware enough of his presence at all times to avoid throwing anything anything harder than dirt in his direction.

And as her anger rolled out of her under her feet, flung away through her hands, Kuvira found herself growing calmer and calmer until there was nothing. No more anger, no more fear. Just emptiness. There was nothing left.

“They’re not coming back,” she said hollowly.

At the corner of her eyes, she was aware of Baatar stirring the torn up ground with a stick. He didn’t look at her.

“They don’t want me.”

Still nothing. In the silence the humming of insects and chirping of birds refiled the forest space. The sun shone brightly up above them, oblivious and uncaring to her pain.

A small bubble of anger rose up in her and popped. It wasn’t anything like she felt before, but enough to move her. She stalked over to Baatar and shoved him, hard enough that he fell back into the dirt with a sharp cry.

“What—”

“Do you want me?”

“What?”

“Back in Zaofu? Do you want me to come back?”

“I–I don’t know.” His glasses had slipped down his face and he pushed them back onto his nose with dirty palms, leaving them smudged. “You’re all right, I guess.”

Something must have shown on her face, because he hastily added, “Huan likes you! Y’know, when you don’t call his _art_ stupid.” Though the way he sketched quote marks around “art” with his fingers was telling from his end too. “Opal likes you too. And mom...”

Kuvira found her breath catching in her throat. Suyin _had_ to hate her now. She’d hit Huan and run away, and now she’d hurt Baatar too, and she’d once called Kuvira “difficult”, and earlier today Kuvira had lost her temper and bent the _yee sang_ into the ceiling like the ungrateful little brat her parents always—”

“...she said you have potential?”

“What?”

“I heard her tell dad you’re very talented,” he parroted at her, “and that your parents are—” here he went very red and mumbled something that would definitely have gotten either of them a caning if overhead by the wrong person.

“Really?” said Kuvira.

“Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t know.” She sat down next to him, picked up his abandoned stick and started writing her name in the dirt.

Baatar watched in silence for several minutes, as she wrote down her name and scratched it out, over and over again.

“So you’re coming back?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly, and hoped he wouldn’t rescind the invitation.

But he just said okay, and climbed to his feet. He spent a moment or so trying to dust off his dirty robes, then gave up and held his grubby hand out to her. “C’mon.”

She followed him up, and back through the bush. It soon became clear to her how Baatar had managed to find her despite being the nerdy four-eyes that he was. She’d left an obvious trail as she’d run off into the forest, the ground raised under every footstep, grass, ferns and flowers buried under mounds of dirt. Where she’d found small pieces of metal ore, she’d hurled them into the trees. Their harmonies sang out faintly to her, from several inches deep into the bark.

Kuvira felt a wave of shame flow through her. She’d completely lost control. She could have killed someone.

Baatar seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he was suddenly edging away from her, making sure to put her in front of him. “You go ahead,” he muttered.

For a brief moment she was tempted to scare him, just a little, just enough to shed that sullen indifference he always wore. If he didn’t care at all, like he said, he wouldn’t have bothered to come out after her, revenge for Huan aside. He hadn’t even tried to hit her back. And these days Baatar rarely did anything that wasn’t to his benefit, or something his father had asked him to do. If he would show, just for a second that he did _care_ —

And then the moment passed. She walked, picking her way over the broken ground, smoothing it out as best as she could as she went, so he could follow after easier. The sun kept shining down as they walked, unerringly hot and bright, and Kuvira became increasingly aware of the hollow feeling in her stomach. It sat uncomfortably next to the hollowness in her chest, but this one—and her stomach growled loudly in agreement—this could be fixed.

Baatar must have her heard her, because she heard an echoing growl.

“You think they have some food left for us?”

Kuvira scoffed. “They have some left for _you_.” She didn’t have high hopes for herself. She’d consider herself lucky if she just got sent to her room for the rest of the day.

“The twins were hungry,” Baatar grumbled somewhat darkly. The twins were always hungry. And everything stopped when the twins were hungry.

“They probably sent some—”

“Oh thank the spirits, there they are!”

To her horror, Kuvira saw Suyin moving through the trees, leaping lightly over the ground like she was airbending instead of earthbending. She found herself knocked aside as Baatar let out a shout of relief and ran for his mother. Alone again. She took a step back, and another and another, and she’d almost turned to flee once again when the ground crawled up her feet and over her shins, trapping her where she stood.

“Let me go!” Kuvira screamed, and to her great shame found the tears flowing again. She ducked her head, and desperately tried to bend the ground away from her feet. “Let me go!”

And then the ground released her, so suddenly that she tumbled headfirst into patch of nettles with a shriek.

“Mom!” Suyin yelled.

An old woman cackled. “Up you go,” she said, and two pillars of dirt pushed Kuvira back to her feet again. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

Her face burning from a mix of shame, anger and the stinging weeds, Kuvira shook her head.

“Are you all right, dear?” said Suyin, and Kuvira found herself pulled into a strong hug, warm hands bushing over her head and shoulders, picking twigs, leaves and dirt from out of her hair.

She buried her face in Suyin’s side, the silk of her new year’s dress cool and soothing against her cheek.

“If they really want to run away so bad we should just let them,” Toph was saying.

“ _I_ wasn’t—” Baatar began indignantly.

“It builds character,” Toph went on. “Did me a lot of good. Definitely did _you_ a lot of good, Su.”

“Mom!”

Kuvira’s voice was small. “I don’t want to run away. I want to stay in Zaofu.”

“Of course you can,” said Suyin, though she slowly started pulling away. Probably didn’t want her dress ruined by Kuvira’s snotty face. But then she took Kuvira’s hand, tugging her gently along. “Come now.”

They slowly started back down the path, Toph whistling as she went.

“What happened to your face, Junior?”

Baatar scowled, the way he always did when his grandmother used her bending to “see” him. “Kuvira hit me.”

“It was an accident!” he added quickly as heads began to swivel in her direction and her blood ran cold. “She didn’t know it was me.”

“Thought you were a hungry bearwolf, did she?” Toph said with a chuckle. She nudged him with a bony elbow, and he yelped. “I heard you well enough, all the way to Zaofu.” 

That probably explained why it had taken so long for any adults to come after them, if Toph had sensed them from so far away and known they were okay. She’d probably told Suyin not to get involved too. According to Baatar, Toph was like that.

And though he’d once confessed to Kuvira that his grandmother scared him a little, he still ducked under her arm and leaned into her as she patted his face fondly if a little absently. “Is there still food left?” he asked, a slight whine to his words.

“Of course,” said Suyin. “Did you think we’d start without you?” And her hand still firmly holding on to Kuvira’s, she led the way back to Zaofu, like nothing had ever happened.

* * *

“Leaving already?”

“I know when I’d not wanted.” It wasn’t an unfamiliar or even a new feeling.

“Mom extended an olive branch.”

“Only to rub it in how much she still hates me for what I’ve done. And I don’t blame her.” Kuvira ran a hand agitatedly through her hair. Everything about Zaofu felt both too familiar and yet utterly alien. Nothing about the courtyard outside had changed. She could probably trace the steps of her old guard route with her eyes closed. But beyond that...the domes were gone, as was the tall guard tower. Exposed to the elements for almost half a decade, the buildings no longer gleamed as they used to.

Opal followed her gaze. “We’re better off without them.”

“Suyin doesn’t think so.”

“My mother isn’t always right.”

Kuvira sighed deeply. “Why do you want me to stay?”

Opal shrugged. She moved so differently from the girl Kuvira had known over a decade ago, fluid, graceful, free, like the element that embraced her at all times. Or maybe it was those airbender robes she wore, fold after fold of saffron cloth, draped over her shoulders and tucked into her hip. “It’s new year’s eve, and almost nobody’s here. Wing’s only going to be here tomorrow, and Wei can’t make it. Huan’s with Baatar—”

And Baatar wasn’t going to be anywhere Kuvira was. 

“So it’s just me, and mom and dad, and you.”

“You’re really taking the air bender pacifism seriously.”

Opal laughed, and it came out bitter. “Me, a pacifist? Not so much, really, not after you.”

The guilt for that was old enough that it no longer brought with it shame, just that deep sinking hollowness in her chest that had only grown bigger since childhood, after she’d accepted the truth of her abandonment.

“You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not doing this for you!” Opal said, and now her voice was harsh, angry. “Maybe I don’t want to be alone for the new year’s either. Maybe I missed you! Maybe I thought...ugh—” She ran a tired hand over her face. “I was thinking we could start over. Slowly. You were exercising in the yard today, and I remembered watching you and the other guards when I was a kid, and it’s been so long since—”

She cut herself off and turned away. Kuvira began to reach out to her, then thought better of it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. That was all she could say. No words sufficed for all she had done.

“You give yourself too much credit,” said Opal. “This family was screwed up long before you. It’s in our blood.”

“I’m probably not making it any better.”

Opal shrugged again, then threw herself down on the sofa. A gust of wind from her hand slammed shut the lid of Kuvira’s suitcase, and then she kicked her legs up onto it. “Watch the sunset with me,” she said, patting the free space on the other side of her. “It’s really quite beautiful when it goes behind the mountains.”

Kuvira sat, and watched the sun go down. In the past, sunset had meant raising the domes, and one of her strongest memories of Zaofu was watching the metal petals blocking out the vivid colours of the sky. Now the view remained free. Opal was right. It _was_ beautiful, the sun smearing rays of orange across the sky, while the horizon faded into soft dusky purples. They stayed there until the last of the sun vanished, its glow now taken up by sharp pinpricks of electric light as the dark settled. It was amazing to see, Kuvira noted, as she rose and padded over to the window. Like ships signaling each other at night, each sector of Zaofu twinkled at each other, the dark forest still stretched between them, connected only by the bright unbroken thread of the train line.

She hadn’t really appreciated how beautiful it all was when she’d been sacking the city.

“Thank you,” she said, hoping Opal could hear the sincerity in her voice. “For showing me this. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” said Opal, slowly unfolding herself from the couch. She came up next to Kuvira, who found herself caught in a long searching gaze she could not look away from.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kuvira nodded, mouth dry.

“Are you alright?”

Though she’d been braced for it, the question still caught her off guard. _Was_ she alright? After years of imprisonment and hard labour, after years of wandering to regain some self of identity, she’d returned to where it had all started. She couldn’t escape Zaofu, but it looked like Zaofu hadn’t escaped her either. And she’d learned that there were people who still cared. Korra and her family. Zhu Li, strangely enough. Baatar too somehow, even in an angry, distant, avoidant way, who still didn’t hate her in a way she’d deserved from him. And now Opal. Still here, still wanting to be here for her.

“I think I will be,” she said slowly.

“I’m glad,” said Opal, and her smile was so bright, so honest, that Kuvira couldn’t help herself. Slowly she held out her arms, and when Opal didn’t move away, she folded them over the other woman and hugged her. And Opal hugged back, holding onto to her like she’d never let go.

“I really missed you,” Opal said again, sniffling, and when they parted, Kuvira had to dab a little at her eyes with her sleeve.

And then her stomach growled.

“Oh monkeyfeathers!” Opal cried. “We’re late for dinner.” And she grabbed Kuvira’s hand and started pulling her towards the door.

* * *

A five year old opened the door. Kuvira didn’t recognise this one. The girl gave one look at her, then shut the door in her face. She sensed the pattering of small feet moving deeper into the house as the child called for someone.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, this time to face she knew.

“Auntie Kuvira!”

Then she found herself with an armful of kid. Tian was still small enough for Kuvira to lift her, and she shrieked in delight as Kuvira swung her around. “Higher! Higher!”

Then it turned out she _was_ getting a little to big for Kuvira to lift her over her head without some bending assistance, and she quickly set her down again, arms twinging from the strain.

“Can you tell your father I’m here?” she asked, crouching down and twisting Tian’s pigtails back into order.

“He already knows, Auntie,” said Tian, and she could sense them now, Huan’s slow, unhurried footsteps heading towards the door. Seeing her father approaching, Tian ran off back into the house. Possibly to find her playmate.

Though Huan didn’t quite smile when he saw her, something about his eyes softened. “Kuvira,” he said warmly, and he stepped forward to embrace her. He smelled faintly of incense, and under that, a sharper metallic scent that she associated with his metalbending and art.

“How’s Jochi?”

“He’s fine. Went to the market with Yin for some last minute supplies. Turns out someone forgot to buy the longevity noodles.”

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

He grimaced. “Guilty as charged. Now please stop hovering at the door and come in.”

Kuvira toed off her shoes and stepped into Huan’s home. It was modest, by Beifong standards, though she also knew Huan had a large studio attached to the back where he worked with his art and sculptures. She took a seat on his rattan settee, and found herself confronted with platters and dishes of cookies, nuts and savoury snacks.

“Don’t look at me,” said Huan, settling in an armchair, though he did pick up an entire plate of rose cookies for himself. “It’s all Jochi’s doing. He’s like a grandmother when it comes to feeding people. A normal non-Beifong grandmother.”

Kuvira had to laugh at that. Just then Tian reemerged, dragging her friend along with her. “Hi again Auntie Kuvira,” she greeted, sweeping past to grab a cookie right out of Kuvira’s hand. “Baba, can we go to the back? I want to show Altani your new art.”

Huan shook his head. “Wait until your father comes back.”

“I’ll be careful,” Tian wheedled. “Please?”

“No,” said Huan firmly. “We’ll wait for your father, and then we can all go to the back.”

“Ughhh,” groaned Tian, sighing with her whole body until she lay on the ground. Her friend—Altani, was it?—sat down next to her, with enough of a look of long suffering on her face that a five-year old could muster.

“Here,” said Huan, putting a bowl of candied ginger on the ground next to the girls. “Eat something.”

“Excellent parenting,” Kuvira observed.

“I’m the fun dad. Jochi’s the strict dad.”

“Except when I want to see your art, Baba!”

“Except when you want to see my art unsupervised.”

“What year are you in school now?” Kuvira asked, hoping to change the subject. 

“Level three!” cried Tian, sticking up an equal number of fingers into the air. “And I hate school.”

“I like school,” said her friend quietly next to her.

“You still have the easy stuff,” said Tian, with all the confidence of an eight-year old. “Wait until you get to year three, that’s haaard.”

Level three. Try as she might, Kuvira remembered very little of her life before Zaofu. And it’d been decades since she’d been eight. Spirits, she felt old. She shifted on the settee, felt something hard in her pocket, and remembered what she’d brought along.

“Sit up,” she told Tian, brandishing the _hongbao_ at her. Upon seeing the red packet, Tian gave a cry of delight and leapt to her feet.

“Be polite,” Huan reminded his daughter.

“Happy New Year, Auntie Kuvira!” Tian cried, giving her quick shallow bow. “Happiness and prosperity to you.”

“And to you too, Tian,” said Kuvira, breaking formality to give the girl a hug. “Behave, and study hard. And don’t spend all your money right away.”

“And you too,” she said to the younger girl, who was watching with wide eyes. She looked too shy to approach, so Kuvira rose to her feet and crouched down next to her, holding out the small red envelope of money. “Happy New Year.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and gave a Kuvira a quick nod, before she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room.

“Oh,” said Kuvira, rather taken aback by her reaction. “Did I scare her?”

“It’s okay,” Huan reassured her. “Altani’s just pretty shy. Tian,” he turned to his daughter. “Why don’t you and Tani play in your room until your father comes back, okay?”

She went readily enough, the _hongbao_ held over her head against the light as she tried to make out the denominations of the notes within.

“Where are her parents?” Kuvira asked, her curiosity stirred by the quiet little girl.

“Away on business,” said Huan, and though his tone was breezy, there was something evasive about it. “She’s staying for a while, but her father will come by tomorrow.”

For just a second the mystery nagged at Kuvira, and then she let it go. She’d learned to let a lot of things go, over the years, and it worked out all the better for her. Less...spiralling. Returning the bowl of candied ginger to the table, she helped herself to some of the more savoury snacks and spent the time catching up with Huan. By all accounts he seemed to be doing well, traveling for the occasional art exhibition, but otherwise content with the quiet, low-key life he’d managed to make for himself in the suburbs of Gaoling. 

In truth, not much had changed since the last time she’d seen him, which was exactly a year ago. After her reconciliation with Opal, they’d made celebrating the New Year a tradition. Something about escaping Zaofu, Opal had once joked after downing half a bottle of hot sake. It was usually just Huan and her, and their respective families, who joined. While Kuvira had managed to reconcile with Wing and Wei as much as she could, it had never extended to friendliness, though of all the Beifongs, she’d never been very close with them anyway. Once Huan had invited his father along, and dinner had been civil, more civil than with Su, who did seem to try her best, but who always ended up letting her anger get the better of her, resulting in Kuvira doing very much the same. They were too alike in that sense. There would be no forgiveness there, but hopefully, over time, they’d slowly start to forget.

Baatar had forgiven somehow, but not forgotten. He communicated only through Huan, with short letters that usually just enquired about her health and included updates on his work with Varrick Industries.

And Kuvira realised then that at some point, when she hadn’t quite been paying attention, they’d all come to the age where they’d started to settle. And for the better, she believed. After the trauma of her childhood, the turmoil of her youth, and the nightmarish years of her rise as the Great Uniter and subsequent fall, settling was...welcome. The world was healing, the people were healing, and she was healing along with them. And she had family again, looking out for her, someone she could look out for in return. 

Someone tapped her on her knee and she startled. It was Huan, and he was smiling, gentle and friendly, the sharp edges of his youth smoothed over by age.

“You okay?” he asked.

Kuvira nodded, and just then, they heard the door open.

“Hey, Huan!” cried someone—Kuvira recognised Jochi’s melodic swampland accent. “Guess who I met coming back from the market.”

“Kuvira’s here!” cried Opal. “Only she’ll still wear those boots in this heat.”

“Come on,” said Huan, pulling her to her feet. “The faster we get the hugging and kissing done with, the sooner we can eat. And I don’t care if you’re the guest, you’re helping us cook.”

And she went with him to greet her family.

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain  
> are moving across the landscapes,  
> over the prairies and the deep trees,  
> the mountains and the rivers.  
> Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,  
> are heading home again.  
> Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,  
> the world offers itself to your imagination,  
> calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -  
> over and over announcing your place  
> in the family of things.  
> \- from "Wild Geese", by Mary Oliver
> 
> \-----  
> Kuvira's ages are 12, mid-to-late 30s and mid-to-late 40s respectively.  
> Kind of a thematic companion piece to "You do not have to walk on your knees" and "Celebrate Your Joy" but not connected or related plotwise.


End file.
